A/N: This is the official rewrite of The Real Allison Church. You should be able to tell the difference. Some shit will obviously be made up…bear with me, alright? We'll start off in basic, and then I have a good idea how to go on.

OCs will be used, but only for a brief while.

The Real Allison Church

Summary: Not much was known about Allison Church, apart from her being the mother of Carolina and the Director's wife. But to others, she was known as Spartan B-312.

*Chapter 1*

August 23rd, 2535

2100 hours

Reach Military Complex

Reach

Colonel Ackerson pursed his lips in anger as he patrolled the hall, and he stalked towards a young Corporal standing guard. The unaware Marine took no notice of the Colonel until he was a foot away from him, and the soldier jumped out of his skin when Ackerson let out an angry bark. "Corporal! Do you know where Chief Mendez is!?" 'Dammit all to hell. So much for Halsey's freaks being the protectors of humanity. Her augmented wind-up toys haven't been able to stop the Covenant from glassing our worlds, just like I told ONI when the project was presented. And yet they refused to listen.'

"H-he's talking with Lieutenant Church sir," the Marine gulped out, snapping to attention in a heartbeat. Sweat was pouring from his face, dripping down his tan cheeks and onto his uniform. The reek of nervousness swirled around him, and Ackerson scoffed inwardly; the damn kid must have heard all the rumors surrounding Ackerson and assumed for them to be true. Some were; he didn't suffer fools lightly. But he never once killed a fellow soldier simply for getting in his way.

He brushed passed him, knuckles white, and continued on his search for the veteran soldier. "Take a shower, Marine. You smell like a pig's ass." His anger and frustration wasn't directed towards the soldier who happened to be in the wrong place in the wrong time. It was for the alien juggernaut known only as the Covenant, who glassed yet another planet in their genocidal campaign to wipe humanity from existence. The latest planet to fall victim was none other than the peaceful mining colony Arcadia, with over 2.5 million civilian casualties and many UNSC personnel also losing their lives in battle.

However, not all was lost.

With the UNSC losing the war despite all the propaganda ONI loved spreading to the Inner Colonies, the head of the Office of Naval Intelligence herself, Admiral Parangosky, finally approved the Colonel for commanding a secret military project based off of Doctor Catherine Halsey's work. It was named the Spartan III project, and it would be even better than Halsey's work. For one, he wouldn't allow fourteen year old kids to be experimented on with genetic experiments like lab rats; he would rely on strict military training and shape them into the perfect soldier without the use of illegal chemicals.

Secondly, he didn't kidnap the subjects, either. Every single possible recruit was a child, ranging between eight and fifteen years of age, who saw their family mercilessly slaughtered by the Covenant and wanted revenge. They took the ones who volunteered, and the ones who declined the offer were sent on a shuttle en-route to one of the Inner Colonies for their own safety.

The kidnapping of children was what disgusted Ackerson most about Halsey. He wouldn't deny the woman was a genius; without a doubt, she was one of the best scientific minds ONI had ever produced. But a person with her intellect shouldn't be able to do whatever she damn well pleased without fear of repercussions. And yet, it was as if Parangosky was afraid of making the bitch go through trial; too often had he heard the exact same words uttered from the old crone. "We can't afford to lose her at the moment. We're in the middle of a war for our very survival."

Ackerson rolled his eyes and let his lip curl into a sneer. 'Give me a fucking break.'

He carried on stalking through the halls of Castle Base until he found the laboratory of the young Lieutenant Leonard Church, and he placed his hand on the fingerprint pad. He felt a stab of pain as the needle pierced his finger to take a tissue sample, and he rested his chin on the retinal scanner. Church took security very seriously, and he pulled out all the stops to prevent his work from being sabotaged, whether indirectly or directly. 'Not even 25, and already has the paranoia of a spook. ONI definitely knows how to pick 'em, I'll give them that much.'

The heavy titanium doors hissed open, and Ackerson stepped into the cool atmosphere of Church's lab. The Lieutenant was busy dissecting a piece of stolen alien armor, and he didn't take notice of his guest; his dark hair was slicked neatly backed, and his green eyes were narrowed slits as he observed part of the armor. "Hmm, the alloy is light, but it has remarkable strength. Interesting."

Chief Petty Officer Mendez, the former Spartan II training instructor, did notice the Colonel's arrival. He cleared his throat, snapping to. "Colonel. To what do we owe the pleasure? I was under the impression we wouldn't be expecting you for at least a few hours."

For someone who had spent a lot of time training colonial kids to be perfect killing machines, his tone was calm. One would think he'd be filled with regret due to his actions, but he preferred to see it as an ugly necessity at the time; before the Covenant first showed up in 2525 by laying waste to Harvest, humanity was still at severe risk of falling apart due to the Insurrection. The Spartan II program was designed to fight the colonial terrorists, who at the time were just as big of a threat. But now, the entire operation against the insurgency was put on the backburner, and the Insurrection was taking the time to grow in both size and strength.

"The shuttle transporting our recruits has landed," Ackerson replied smoothly, fighting back the anger that coursed through his blood. "I want you to come with me, so you can keep a good eye on them while I explain what they signed up for." 'He had a good eye for finding those who have potential to truly become great in that freak show of Halsey's.'

Mendez gave a brief nod, and he glanced over at the young Lieutenant, who was still focused on his work. "Do you require Leonard's presence?" Normally, refusing to acknowledge a superior officer was punishable, but the Colonel saw no need for him to be distracted; Church's work was of the utmost importance at the pressing time, and there was no room for distractions.

"No," Ackerson answered. "They'll be introduced to him tomorrow. Plus he seems to be a little preoccupied with his experiments." 'Steely, cool, collected, and with a brain to rival Halsey's. Talk about one well-rounded package.' For a man who had yet to see his twenty-fifth birthday, Leonard Church was a marvelous example of brilliance taken to the extreme; he memorized line commands that were put out of use before the first 'dumb' AI was ever created as a teenager, and was now the chief scientific director of the Spartan III project.

His current assignment, as the scientific director, was to design powered armor units that the Spartan IIIs could successfully wield without the need for inferior power supply or augmentations. And so far, they had hit a little of a brick wall; the only other person who had access to or sufficient knowledge of powered armor was Halsey, and the bitch didn't like sharing. Especially with those she saw as rivals, like Colonel Ackerson.

The two left Lieutenant Church alone, and Ackerson couldn't help but feel pleased with himself. Not only had he gotten his hands on one of the best scientists ONI had to offer, but he also acquired the very same man who trained the Spartan IIs for little over eight years. He would've liked to be in possession of powered armor by now, but as Leonard Church had told him, armor units like the MJOLNIR didn't grow on trees, and he needed to be patient; trying to rush it would lead to disaster. 'Time. Something humanity has very little of right now. We need that armor as soon as possible.'

The two soldiers walked down to the ample theater, and the children were already waiting inside. They were being seated under the watchful eyes of Mendez's handpicked instructors, and Ackerson took his place in the front. The room he was in could survive a direct nuclear strike, and yet he could smell the tension in the air.

The hushed and excited whispers ceased once the Colonel cleared his throat, and he felt all eyes on him as he began to speak. "Children. You are among the first to volunteer for a project beyond your wildest imaginings, codenamed Spartan III. You volunteered because you all expressed some desire for revenge against the alien juggernaut known as the Covenant; revenge for those loved ones you have lost." 'I hate giving speeches. Makes me feel like a politician instead of a soldier.'

He paused, his sharp gaze searching for any changes in the children's behavior. A few trembling lips, several pairs of eyes flashing in anger, and icy coolness from a select few. He glanced over at Mendez to see if he noticed as well; the Chief gave a brief nod in response to the silent question. 'Good. He notices it too.'

Ackerson continued on. "You are here because we share that common enemy. While you are in this program, we will, to the best of our ability, make you ready. The road ahead will not be easy. It will be filled with perils, and whether or not you succeed is up to you. But, if you can find the will to fight through the struggles, you will be ready. And you will be more than capable of avenging those loved ones who have lost their lives."

He gestured over to Mendez, standing quietly by his side but observing the recruits with a watchful eye. "This is Chief Petty Officer Mendez. He will be your superior from here on out. Chief, feed them and put them to bed."

Mendez snapped to, and he let out a bark of an order. "Trainees, fall out!" The sound of fifty pairs of feet stampeded out, guided by their new instructors, and Mendez followed them.

'Tomorrow will be the beginning of a very interesting time,' Ackerson mused, reaching for a cigar. He lit it, and breathed.

It would be very interesting to see if the children were as motivated as they believed themselves to be.

August 24th

0530 hours

"Wake up, trainee!"

Allison rolled over in her cot and tried to go back to sleep. She was dimly aware this wasn't the room she was used to, and that there were other people here.

A shock jolted her, from her bare feet to the base of her spine. She yelped in surprise and fell off of the cot. She shook off the disorientation of being half asleep and stood up in a hurry. 'What the…?'

"I said up, boot! You do know which way up is, don't you!?" The owner of the voice was a man in a camouflage uniform who towered over the blonde. His shorn hair was silver at the temples, and his eyes were almost unnatural. Big, black, and didn't blink. In his hands was a silver instrument, and it sparked when he flicked it towards her.

Allison backed away. 'Stun baton.' She wasn't afraid; only little kids were afraid of such minor things. But one thing was for sure; she did not want to be on the receiving end of that thing again, and her instincts told her to move as far from it as possible.

A dozen other men roused the other children with the same methods. Crackles of electricity filled the air, along with the surprised cries of a ninety-nine other children. 'Nice start.'

"I am Chief Officer Mendez, and these men are your instructors," Mendez said over the sounds of chaos. "You will do exactly what I say, when I say, and how I say. If I say shit, then I expect an answer of, 'What kind, how much, and where do you want?' Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes sir," Allison and a few other trainees replied.

"I said, do I make myself clear!?" Mendez barked, the instructors zapping the ones who refused to answer.

"Yes sir!" they replied, gasping for breath as they recovered from the little love-taps.

"Good!" Mendez pointed to the end of the cinderblock barracks with the stun baton. "Showers are aft. You will all wash and return here to dress." He opened a trunk at the end of Allison's cot and pulled out a matching set of light grey sweats. Her name and number, 'Allison B-312' was stenciled on the shirt.

Allison promptly made her way to the showers, not wanting to be stunned again, and one boy didn't get the message. He peered over to sneak a look, and Mendez zapped him between the shoulder blades. "No slacking, boy! On the double! Go, go, GO!"

The boy lay sprawled on the floor for a few moments before he followed suit, and he ran, clutching his chest.

The other kids looked disoriented as they all stripped off their nightshirts and stepped onto the conveyor. They washed in lukewarm, soapy water before rinsing off in an icy cold spray.

Allison fitted on underwear, thick socks, the sweats, and a pair of snug combat boots.

"Outside, trainees!" Mendez announced. "Triple time, march!"

Allison and the other trainees stampeded outside.

The sun hadn't risen yet, and the sky was still a hue of indigo. The grass was slippery with dew, the drops glistening. There were dozens of rows of barracks, but to Allison, it seemed as though they were the only ones up and about. Overhead, a pair of Longsword Interceptors screamed in the sky, leaving trails behind them as they arced in the air. Far away, the blonde heard a crackling of metal.

Chief Mendez let out another bark of an order. "You will make five equal-length rows. Twenty trainees each." He waited impatiently while they milled about. "Straighten those damn rows! You know how to count to twenty, recruit? Take four steps back!"

Allison stepped into the third row.

As she breathed in the crisp air, she woke up completely. She remembered why she decided to sign up, and her blood began to boil in fury. Her mother and father were trying to get her to a safe house, and some creature wearing maroon armor with blue lights on the helmet cleaved them in pieces with a weapon of pure energy—

"Jumping jacks! Count off to one hundred!" Mendez shouted. "Ready, go!" Allison followed his lead.

One girl refused, for a split second. An instructor was on her like white on rice. The baton whipped into her stomach, and she doubled over. "Get with the program, boot," the trainer snarled. The girl uncurled and started jumping.

Allison had never done so many jumping jacks in her life. Her arms, legs, and stomach burned. Sweat trickled down her back.

"Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one-hundred!" Mendez paused. He drew in a deep breath before dropping onto the wet grass. "Sit-ups! Count off to one-hundred, and no slacking!"

One hundred bodies threw themselves onto the ground.

"The first crewman who quits," Mendez said, "gets to have a nice two lap run around the compound and come back and do two-hundred sit-ups. Ready…count off! One…two…three…"

Deep squats followed. Then knee bends.

Allison felt like she was about to throw up, and a few did. It didn't earn them any respite; trainers descended on them after a few seconds, and they rolled back over to continue.

"Leg lifts." Mendez continued like he was a machine. While the children looked like they could barely move, the Chief was moving effortlessly.

Allison's legs responded sluggishly and trembled, and she gritted her teeth. She doubted she could go on, but she had to try. Otherwise, that baton was going to whip towards her, and one shock was enough for the day. 'Don't quit. Whatever you do, don't you dare quit!'

"Rest," Mendez finally called. "Trainers, get the water."

The trainers wheeled out carts lined with water bottles. Allison grabbed one and gulped it down. The liquid was warm and slightly salty, but the blonde didn't care. To her, it was the best tasting water she ever had.

She rested on her back, panting heavily. She grew up on a farm and was used to working long hours, but this was different on a whole new level. Every muscle ached. 'This is what the military is like, then. A lot harder than I ever anticipated.'

The sun was up now, the warm rays burning the dew on the grass. Allison rolled over and let the sweat drip off her like a monsoon shower. She slowly got up and stole a glance at the others. They all held their sides, not talking as they crouched on the ground. Their clothes were all soaked through with perspiration. 'No one I recognize.'

"A good start, trainees," Mendez told them. "Now we run. On your feet!"

The trainers brandished their batons and herded the trainees along. They jogged down a gravel path through the compound, past more cinderblock barracks. The run seemed to be never-ending; they ran alongside a river with crystal clear water, over a bridge, then by a long runway, where the Longswords raced straight up into the sky above. Once past the runway, Mendez led them all down a zigzag-ging stony path.

Allison couldn't think about how much she wanted to make the Covenant pay for murdering her family; all she could feel was the blood pounding in her veins, the aches in her muscles, and the hunger eating away at her stomach.

They ran into a courtyard of smooth flagstones. A pole in the center flew a flag bearing the colors of the UNSC. At the far end of the yard was a building with open security doors.

A young man with slicked back hair, green eyes, and glasses was waiting for them. He wore a crisp officers' uniform, and his hands were behind his back. A silver stripe adorned the shoulders, showing the rank of Lieutenant.

"Excellent work, Chief Petty Officer Mendez," he said in a silky Texan accent. He turned to the children with a cool gaze. "Welcome. My name is Lieutenant Church, and I will be your teacher. Please come in. Class is about to start."

Several children grumbled.

He turned and started to walk inside. "Of course," he said, "if you prefer to skip your lessons, you may continue with the morning calisthenics. I'm sure Chief Mendez wouldn't mind."

Those who groaned double-timed it up the steps.

It was cool inside. A tray of protein bars and a whey shake had been laid out for each of them. Allison tried the bars, nearly gagged at the bitterness, and took a careful swig of the shake. 'Vanilla?'

She was exhausted, and a few looked like they wanted to lay their heads down and nap. Right up until the point where Lieutenant Church started to tell them of the mighty Spartan warriors of ancient Greece.

A holographic display appeared in the classroom, showing a rich countryside of hills and mountains, and the imaginary sea lapped at their boots. Three hundred toy-sized soldiers were guarding a narrow strip of land, and thousands of others were marching towards them with spears, swords, and shields in hand. The confrontation was messy; swords flashed and blood spilled out.

The lesson went by for hours, and Allison felt her hunger return.

Church explained that the three hundred warriors were Spartans, and they were professional soldiers and leaders trained from childhood. They were practically unbeatable, until they were betrayed by one of their own and slaughtered. But their sacrifice united Greece and they fought the invaders off.

"That's all for today," Church said quietly, pushing his glasses up. "Never forget that sometimes, the most dangerous enemy isn't the one right in front of you. Rather, it's the one who wears the same face as you. We will continue tomorrow. Now, I believe Chief Mendez would like to see you again."

Allison walked outside, and Chief Mendez and the other trainers were waiting for them outside.

"I trust the lesson wasn't difficult? Fall in for the last exercise of the day; it's only a short run," Mendez waved them along.

The 'short run' turned out to be a solid three miles, and the last exercise wasn't like Allison expected. It was more of an obstacle course, and it was laden with cargo nets, ropes, pulleys, and wooden bridges.

"Trainees, form five lines," Mendez ordered. The trainers moved in to herd them, but Allison and the others made five equal rows without a fuss or remark; they learned not to disobey them, unless they felt like getting zapped with a baton again.

"Your objective is 'Ring the bell'," Mendez started off. "The first person in each row will make up Team A. The second person in each row will make Team B, and so on. There are many ways to reach your objective; I'll leave it up to each team to find their own way. Are there any questions?"

"What do we win?" a boy with dark skin and equally dark eyes asked, hand in the air.

"You win dinner, A-239," Mendez replied unblinkingly. His hard gaze swept over all of them. "Tonight's dinner is roast beef, mashed potatoes and gravy, brownies, and chocolate ice cream."

A murmur of approval rippled like a wave.

"But," he added, "for there to be winners, there must also be a loser. The last team to complete the objective goes tonight without food."

Allison blinked in surprise, and she looked to see who her partners were. A tall lanky boy named Jordan B-569, a redhead named Elizabeth B-146, a freckled youth called Bryn B-096, and a short brunette girl with porcelain features named Sarah B-479. They all gave her weary looks, rings of exhaustion circling their eyes.

"Do you have a plan?" Bryn asked, his Scottish tone quivering with anticipation.

Allison examined the course; it was like a maze on paper, only this one twisted out of the page. 'So many dead ends.' She squinted her dark blue eyes, and found a route. 'Found one!'

She gestured to her other teammates, waving them over and pointing. "There. That basket on the far right. It goes straight to the top. It's a long pull though." Allison felt the throbbing in her biceps, and she was unsure if they could pull it off in their weakened states.

"We can do it," Sarah assured them, full of optimism. Jordan merely grunted in acknowledgment.

Allison glanced over at the other teams; they were all searching the course too. "We'll have to be quick about it. Make sure no one beats us to it."

"I'm fast," Elizabeth volunteered, flexing her arms. "Real fast."

"Trainees, get ready," Mendez shouted.

"Okay," Allison breathed, "You sprint ahead and hold it for us. We'll be right behind you."

"Go!"

Elizabeth shot forward like a rocket. Allison had never seen anyone accelerate quite like her; her feet were a blur and didn't seem to touch the ground. When she got to the basket, Allison and the rest were only two-thirds of the way there.

One boy, with messy brown hair and glittering green eyes, beat them. "Get out, princess," he snarled. "I'm going up."

Jordan picked him up by the collar of his shirt and threw him into the dirt without a sound leaving his lips.

They were lucky the basket was big enough for all five of them to fit. Allison, Jordan, Sarah, and Bryn joined Elizabeth in it and pulled on the rope to raise themselves up. There was a lot of rope; for every three meters they pulled, they only rose one.

"Faster," Allison urged through gritted teeth. Her muscles burned, and the hunger in her stomach grew. Ten hands worked in unison, and they rose further and further until they reached the bell. The yells of shock as other teams fell into the muddy water below filled the air.

They weren't the first to reach it. They were fifth. Each of them got to ring the bell though, and they made it back as a team across the line.

Chief Mendez watched them. He didn't say a word, but Allison caught a flicker of approval on his hard features.

"Good work, lads and lasses," Bryn clapped Sarah and Jordan on their backs. "What do you say we go and hit the mess hall before big man here decides to eat everything in sight?"

"Keep talking, and you'll be the one I hit instead of the mess," Jordan grumbled, speaking for the first time. Sarah and Elizabeth laughed, and Allison saw Mendez walking over to them; the other teams

"Good work, team five," he said, giving them all a small smile. "Get back to barracks and chow down. Don't want it getting cold. All except Team Four; I want a word with you all."

Allison and her team made their way back, and they stuffed themselves full of roast beef, the succulent meat covered in brown gravy. They left the mess hall with chocolate encrusted on their mouths.

Allison collapsed in her bunk, exhausted. Today was tough, and yet it seemed to her like things were only going to get harder from here on out.

The blonde passed out the moment her head hit the pillow.

A/N: Well? Better than the previous? Worse? Tell me what you think; every bit helps.

I'm starting out in basic so we can see how harsh the actual training was (which we don't get in the games… *angry Meta growl*), and so we can see just what happens to her throughout the years.

To start, here are the ages for Allison and her team.

Allison: 12

Jordan: 14

Bryn: 13

Sarah: 11

Elizabeth: 13

Peace out!